


Grow As We Go

by kylieDoesntKnow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breakup, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, POV Original Character, Slow Burn, Soft George Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylieDoesntKnow/pseuds/kylieDoesntKnow
Summary: Ophelia Corbin has spent her years at Hogwarts trying to fly under the radar. After going through a break-up, she finds herself imagining a different, riskier life that may or may not include one half of Hogwarts' most notorious prank duo.George Weasley represents something new, something dangerous. And, she might actually like him. Even stranger, he might feel the same.
Relationships: George Weasley/Original Female Character(s)





	Grow As We Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in a long time and I'm excited to be back in the game! The plot is only mildly developed at this point, but I couldn't wait to get this first chapter out there. Enjoy!

"Full. Full. Contains a literal child. Full." I walk down the corridor of the train, attempting to find an empty compartment. Eventually, I find one that's completely empty and begin the futile attempt to store my overpacked trunk in the overhead storage. After two failed attempts, including one that causes a knot to start forming on my forehead, I give up and leave my trunk on the seat next to me. Perhaps some chivalrous Gryffindor will see a damsel in distress and offer assistance. More likely, a prefect will see a place they can stick a lost-looking first year and force help upon me.

To my utmost luck and surprise, no one comes, leaving me alone in the compartment. Seeing as my mother woke me up at 6am this morning, I consider this the prime opportunity to get some more sleep. I've always found it easy to sleep on the train, so much so that my first year, I arrived at the castle not having changed into my robes. McGonagall had to stall the sorting ceremony until I had located my trunk. I don't think she's forgiven me for that yet.

 _Crack._ Please let me be dreaming. _POP._ I open my eyes to see a bright red firework bouncing around the compartment. Instinctively, I jump on the seat, giving an embarrassing yell in the process.

"Oi Corbin! It's a firework, not a rat," says a stocky redhead standing in my doorway.

"Can you stop it?" As I say that, it lands on the compartment floor with a loud thud, coughing out few last sparks before it finally pitters out.

The boy steps forward to pick up the burnt-out tube. "Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Waterproof and reusable," He says, offering me his hand to step down. I take it and jump off the bench with as little grace as is possible.

"Fred Weasley, what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Just some experimentation." He pauses. "How do you know I'm Fred?"

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and point to his chest. "You're wearing a jumper with a giant 'F' knitted on it."

"Love, if you knew me, you'd know that means nothing." Maybe-Fred-maybe-not-Fred smiles wide and slides the firework into the pocket of his already-disheveled robes. He extends his hand, "George Weasley, I don't believe we've ever officially met."

"Ophelia Corbin," I say, shaking his hand. I attempt a firm handshake, but I know I'm not fooling anyone. There are plenty of people who are much stronger than they look, but despite my wide frame I have worse muscle density than a house elf.

Before this enthralling conversation can continue any longer, the redhead's doppelganger runs into the compartment, followed by an out of breath Lee Jordan.

"Did it work?" Fred asks.

"Yes and no," George responds. "It ricocheted like we wanted it to, but it fizzled out too quickly, and we seemed to have injured a snake in the process."

"Injured?" I ask, receiving puzzled looks from the three boys. Realizing what he means, I touch the large bump on my forehead. "Oh, this! That's not from your firework. I had a fight with my trunk and lost, apparently."

George looks at me, tilting his head, his face contorted in a way that I know he's had some kind of idea, but gives no indication as to what he's thinking. He pulls the firework out of his pocket and tosses it to his twin. "Try replacing the fuse with the blue one we made."

The other boys sit on the bench across from me and begin to tinker, while George effortlessly picks up my trunk, placing it in the overhead storage.

"Excuse me," I say, "I don't recall inviting you three to make yourselves at home."

"Calm down, snake. You know this is the most interesting company you'll get all year." Lee Jordan pulls out a deck of exploding snap and begins to shuffle.

Accepting my fate, I return to my spot by the window. George had taken the place next to me. I give a deep sigh; the Weasley twins aren't my usual crowd. There's a single half-blood in my year in Slytherin, Erika Rhodes, and she attached herself to me the first week of classes. I am one of the few in my house without blood purists as parents. Together we tend to gravitate towards Ravenclaws. However, after the events of this summer, I don't know if that will continue.

"Candy?" George offers me a licorice wand.

I'm skeptical. "It's not going to explode, is it?"

"Why? Do you want it to?"

I roll my eyes, taking the candy from his hand. "Thanks."

"So, Corbin, what N.E.W.T.s are you taking?" George asks. I'm skeptical of his intentions. I've barely had a full conversation with one of these boys through our five previous years at Hogwarts. I've had some scattered classes with the Gryffindors. I think I've even done a potions project with one of the twins, though I can't remember which one. Now, we're sharing a compartment on the train, and George Weasley is attempting to make small talk with me.

"I've got Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. Then Snape and McGonagall decided there were enough people to offer Alchemy this year," I pause. I know I'm forgetting something, "Oh, and astronomy, of course. Professor Sinistra asked me to be her teaching assistant for the first- and second-year classes."

Fred looks up from the rocket. "Sounds like you'll be busy."

"That's the goal." I turn to George. "What are you taking?"

"I'll be joining you in Charms and Transfiguration, and I'm taking Defense Against the Dark Arts with whatever old boot Dumbledore found."

"Thrilling, I'm sure." I laugh. "And you two?"

Fred, refocused on the project in his hand, waves me off without an answer. Lee shuffles his cards, one slightly smoking, as he answers.

"Charms, Defense, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures."

For a minute, we sit in awkward silence. Fred continues to work on the rocket, and Lee plays with his exploding snap cards, occasionally jumping at a spark. My eyes drift out the window to watch the countryside fly by. I pick at the edge of my jumper, pulling on the loose threads I've been too busy to repair. It looks as if it might rain soon.

I turn my head, and George gives a slight jump as if he were staring and didn't want me to know. I must have imagined it. I've never been paid any mind before, and things aren't about to change. Even knowing that I give him a small smile, which he returns.

I look out the window again to assess our distance from the castle. Realizing the sun has almost set, we must be closer than I thought. "Well boys," I say, standing, "it has been wonderful traveling with you, but we're approaching Hogsmeade and, as you might've noticed, I'm not in my robes."

Shoving the explosive into his pocket, Fred is the first to rise. "You heard her, lads. Let's give the lady some privacy. Wouldn't want a repeat of our first year."

I'm thrilled that this is my legacy among my classmates.

Lee exits first, followed by the twins. Before the door to the compartment closes, I shout, "Weasley!"

"Yes?" The twins turn and speak in unison.

I panic for a moment, not knowing what I want to say. "Mind giving me a hand with my trunk?"

Fred walks away, leaving George to step back inside to help.

"Thanks," I say.

"What else is Gryffindor chivalry good for?"

Before he leaves again, my mouth opens faster than my brain can think.

"Do you play chess?"

"What?"

"I beat out Roger Davies for the top spot in Chess Club last year, so I'm in charge of organizing this years' meetings, and we're a little low in numbers, so I was just wondering if you," I pause, realizing how ridiculous this is, "played chess."

He laughs. He probably thinks this is stupid. The only people who come to Chess Club are nerds and arrogant jerks.

"Let me know when the first meeting is."

"Yeah." A smile creeps onto my face. "Yeah, of course."

He leaves the compartment, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I have no idea what just happened, but I think it was a positive encounter. Searching through my trunk for my robes and uniform, I notice the droves of students crowding the train's corridor. Waving my wand, I lower the blinds. My hands shake as I attempt my buttons.

When I was nervous as a child, my mother would quote to me from Shakespeare. Sometimes I think she must have nearly every play memorized.

 _"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy."_ She would pet my hair and hold me on her lap and impose wisdom that was far beyond what a young child could understand. _"Ophelia, there is no reason to cry. There is more out there for you than the walls of this shop."_

She was wrong, though. Nearly a decade later, I'm studying to run the apothecary with her. Whether she wanted me to do more is a moot point; this is the safest route for both of us. So, I work hard in school and try to make the smallest amount of fuss possible.

My mind wanders away from the safe route, though. I think back to the look I shared with George Weasley. He certainly didn't see anything in me. We've shared classes for years, passed each other on the stairs countless times; there's no reason this chance encounter would be different than any other. Even if it were, though, my grandmother would hardly approve.

I shake those thoughts out of my mind. It's not even worth considering. I pull my robes over my shoulders and seal my trunk as the train begins to slow. Stepping out of my compartment, I search the crowds until I see the face I'm looking for.

"Erika!" I yell in her direction.

She sees me and pushes through the crowd. "Ophelia Corbin, where have you been?" She wraps me in a hug.

"It's a long story; I'll catch you up later."

"You didn't write to me all summer! I even wrote to Patty and Roger, and neither would tell me what happened."

The train stops, and we step off arm-in-arm.

"Patty didn't tell you?" I ask.

"Tell her what?" Patricia walks up behind us, accompanied by Roger Davies.

I immediately tense up, but I flash a smile in their direction. "How absolutely radiant you look!" Apparently, if I pretend that everything is fine, it will be.

"I did just get the version of Sleekeazy's."

"Hi, Ophie." Roger is still adjusting his tie, last year I would've fixed it for him.

"Rodger." Still locked arms with Erika, I grab Patty's hand and turn around. "Hurry up, I don't want to get one of the rickety carriages."

Erika gives me a look. She's intuitive enough to realize what transpired at the beginning of the summer. "I promise I'll tell you everything tonight," I whisper to her.

We climb into the carriage, and once the four of us are seated, it takes off. Erika and Patty jump into a conversation about Patty's new hair routine. I feign interest. Eventually, the topic turns to the world cup.

"I can't believe you were there for it!" Erika exclaims.

"We were really lucky," Roger says, "My dad made us leave right after the match. We were safe in our beds by the time those Death Eaters were marching."

"I can't imagine what it would've been like if we were still there," Patty chimes in, "not that any of us would've been in any real danger. Besides, it's not like anyone actually died."

"Wasn't that muggle family seriously hurt?" I ask.

"My dad claims that it was just some blokes trying to relive their glory days." I roll my eyes; apparently, Roger's father knows everything. "They took the muggles to St. Mungo's, and they were gone before the week was out. It was their memory they worried about the most."

The other three continue the conversation, but I let my mind drift. Everything I once found endearing about this boy now irritates me to my core. We reach the castle, and the carriage pulls to a stop. Rodger jumps down first and offers his hand to each of us to help us down. The other two take it; I don't. As I start to go past him, he grabs my wrist.

"Hey, Ophie. There are no hard feelings between us, right?"

"Of course not," I say, "But, don't call me 'Ophie' anymore."

With that said, we walk into the castle. I have a feeling this year is going to be more complicated than I imagined.


End file.
